


All In Your Head

by RottenRhetoric



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:30:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11455065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RottenRhetoric/pseuds/RottenRhetoric
Summary: Harry is hearing a voice in his head, and he really shouldn't be surprised when he finds out who it belongs too. But he is surprised what it might bring.





	1. Chapter 1

The dark lord was angry. He was more than angry, he was sleep deprived. The damn boys nightmares have been keeping him awake for weeks. Why did he have to force the bond open last year? It had caused nothing but problems, and nightmares. Something had to be done.  
‘Wake up, Potter’

Miles away, at 4 Privet drive, Harry Potter moaned and rolled over on his bed, clinching his pillow over his head.   
‘I said wake up!’  
“What the…!” Harry shot up from bed panting for breath. The nightmares were nothing new, he had been having them since he returned from Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry for the summer. But he could of sworn someone had been talking to him from his dream. But that wasn't possible.   
‘It was just a dream’ he told himself as he laid back down in bed. Not that he would be getting any more sleep that night. He could never get back to sleep after his nightmares.   
‘Thank Merlin, perhaps I could get some sleep now’ someone said from inside his own head. Harry's eyes snapped open.   
“Who's there?” Harry called out, his voice verging on panicked.  
‘No one is there’ The voice answered, definitely coming from inside his own head.  
“Great, now I'm going crazy too, as if being the savior of the wizarding world wasn't enough.”

Voldemort briefly played with the idea of convincing Potter he really was insane, but truthfully he was to tired for any plots right now.  
‘Not crazy, Potter, but talking to yourself isn't a good sigh. Not shut up, I'm going to sleep. Your nightmares have been keeping me up all night, even dark lords need sleep.’ The voice in his mind sounded annoyed, and sleepy, if a voice inside your own head could be sleepy. Wait, did the voice just call itself…?

‘What!? IT’S YOUR FAULT I HAVE NIGHTMARES!’ Harry shrieked in his head.  
‘No, not all of them. Who is the fat boy?’ Harry sighed, he was to tired to think of the ramifications of conversing with his arch nemesis in his head.   
‘Dudley, my cousin.’  
‘The one you live with? Why would you have nightmares of him chasing you a punching you?’ There was a tinge of interest in the dark lords mind voice.   
‘Because that's what he does, okay! I'm a freak, he punishes me for it!’ Harry was getting exasperated. This was not a conversation he should be having, and yet he couldn't seem to stop himself from replying. Voldemort seemed to hear his thoughts as soon as they formed and Harry had no way to block him from his mind. But no reply came and Harry had a sense that the uninvited visitor in his head had left to find his own sleep and dreams. 

Eventually Harry got out of bed with a groan. There was no use in laying around, he wouldn't be able to sleep again. Out the window he could see the sun starting to poke out over the horizon. He might as well get up and start his chores for the day. It was the day before his 16th birthday, and if he finished everything early enough he might be able to get some sleep before his presents arrived at midnight tonight. 

He dropped onto his bed at 8 that night, he had finally finished everything his aunt and uncle had assigned him that day, even the last minute nonsense they had thought up on the spot. He was so tired it didn't take long for him to drift off to sleep. 

Harry was running through the graveyard, Dudley close behind him. No matter how fast he ran he couldn't seem to put any space between them. In face Dudley seemed to be getting closer. Harry tried to dodge around a headstone but one of Dudleys giant fists grabbed the front of his shirt and forced his back against a stone monolith. His face twisted in a nasty snarl as he began pummeling Harry.   
“You like this, don't you? You know this is what you deserve. You're nothing more than a freak of nature.” Dudleys words hurt more than the fist that cracked against his jaw. 

‘Time to wake up, I think.’ A dark figure was striding elegantly across the grass towards the pair of boys, his robes and cloak blowing in the breeze.   
‘I said WAKE UP!’ The last words were yelled so loud they reverberated inside Harry's head. The graveyard flickered out of existence and was replaced but the plain white ceiling of his small bedroom.   
‘It's very hard to focus when I have you screaming inside my head.’  
‘I'm sorry, I hope I didn't interrupt anything important.’ Harry snapped.  
‘Only death eater reports. I suppose they have you to thank for cutting the meeting short.’  
‘I'll be sure they thank me the next time I see them, if they're not too busy trying to kill me’  
‘Why, I believe you are angry with me, mister Potter. Why might that be?’   
‘Maybe I don't enjoy you rolling around in my head. Did you ever think I would want you to see my nightmares? Do you think I even want to talk to you!?’ Harry was shouting in his mind by the end of his sentence, but he couldn't help it. The nerve of some people. Who was Voldemort to go waltzing around in his dreams and waking him up whenever he pleased.   
‘Don't you think I would block the connection if I could? Trust me Potter, I have better things to do than be an audience to your pathetic nightmares.’ Harry could feel Voldemort’s annoyance. At that moment there was a hesitant tap at the window. Harry looked over and saw Hedwig waiting to be let in. She was laden down with packages but she looked almost shy, like she knew she was interrupting something.   
‘Could she know I'm having conversations with a voice instead my head?’ Harry thought. ‘God, my life is so weird.’ He hurriedly open the window for her when he saw what the owl was carrying.   
‘Presents!’ He thought. He could swear he heard Voldemort chuckle. He had almost forgotten about him in his excitement.   
‘Open your presents’ Voldemort told him. ‘Happy birthday.’

Harry spent the rest of the summer at the burrow. His nightmares were lest frequent there and when they did occur Ron usually woke him before they got too bad. Occasionally Harry would see the dark figure in his dreams, or hear his voice prodding him gently to wake. There was non of the annoyance he felt before, getting a full night of sleep seemed to do wonders for Voldemort’s mood, but he never spoke to Harry when he woke. When he was first awakened by Voldemort, on his third night staying at the burrow, he had waited for him to say something, but nothing happened. It made Harry uneasy, but he eventually fell back into a restful sleep. And so his new routine began. Ever few nights he would have a dream that either didn't wake Ron up, or Ron couldn't wake him from. It was then that Voldemort would appear, dressed in black robes and cloak, with the hood pulled lower over his face, and rouse Harry from his dream. Harry tried to talk to him, (simply out of curiosity, it could be important in the war, after all) but he received no response. He couldn't even feel the tell tale tingle in the back of his head that he had when they had conversed before. And eventually Harry would grow tired of screening into his own mind, and drift back to sleep. Perhaps Voldemort had grown board decided to leave him alone. But then why did he still wake him? And why did that thought upset him so much? Perhaps he had imagined the whole thing? Maybe he really was crazy. That thought made him so upset Harry hardly spoke with anyone for 2 days. Why should it matter if he had spoken to Voldemort. Why did he care so much? 

But the truth was this mystery was the only thing Harry seemed to care about. Sure, he played quidditch and wizards chess with Ron and did his school work when Hermione came to visit, but he couldn't quite bring himself to actually care about any of it. He only partially listened when Ron and Hermione talked and rarely contributed anything to the conversation.And he never mentioned anything about his conversations with Voldemort to them. He didn't think he could explain how he felt about it, he couldn't explain it to himself, let alone his friends. But no one seemed to notice his mood, or if they did they ignored it. And Harry heard not a peep from Voldemort. 

It wasn't until his first night back in Gryffindor tower that Harry heard from the ‘voice inside his head’ as he had started calling Voldemort.  
‘I see Dumbledore got you back safe and sound for another year.’ Harry started. He had just laid down in his four poster bed and was starting to drift to sleep when he heard the voice.  
‘So your talking to me again?’ He asked  
‘After our last conversation I was under in impression you didn't want to talk to me.’ Voldemort replied smoothly.  
‘I didn't, and I don't.’  
‘Ah, and that's why you were so moody all the time. It was almost like you missed me.’ Harry could swear Voldemort was teasing him.  
‘How could I miss you, I hate you.’   
‘No, you don't Harry. I'm well acquainted with hate and I didn't feel any hate coming through the bond since we first spoke.’ That shut Harry up.   
‘Ah, so the great Albus Dumbledore never told you we have a bond?’  
‘He might have mentioned it.’ Harry replied, quickly trying to think of everything Dumbledore had ever said about his connection to Voldemort.  
‘When you tried to kill me as a baby, you messed up. Dumbledore calls it a connection.’  
‘I messed nothing up’ the voice hissed in his head. After a moment it continued. ‘I don't know why it happened, I researched it for months but found nothing like the bond we share. It seems to be unique.’  
‘Dumbledore thinks you put some of yourself in me. That's why I can speak parseltongue and see your dreams and feel when you experience a really powerful emotion.’  
‘That is… an interesting theory.’ Voldemort seemed lost in thought for a moment. ‘No wonder he calls it a connection, if he believes that's all it can do. But make no mistake, Harry, what we share is a true bond. It is much deeper than what Dumbledore imagines.’  
‘What, so we can talk through it to? Big deal, it only works one way.’ Harry thought back, thinking of all the times throughout the summer he tried to gain Voldemort’s attention and failed.  
‘Ah, but it's not. You can speak with me whenever you want, you just have to use the bond.’  
‘Very descriptive, and how do I do that?’ It's not like Harry cared anyway, this was pure curiosity.   
‘Look inside your magical core, that's what keeps the bond alive.’ Harry sighed. It was useless trying to get anything out of Voldemort. His magical core, what rubbish. But still, just in case, he closed his eyes and took a calming breath, just as Snape had taught him for occlumency. He searched inside him, and sure enough, just beneath his skin, was a burning mass of power.   
‘That's my magic?’ He asked  
‘Yes, you are quite a powerful wizard, Harry. This is where your magic lives, inside you, waiting for you to call it it. Go deeper now.’ So Harry did, and in the center of that mass was a rope. Harry prodded it with his mind.  
‘Very good, potter! Yes, that is the bond that links us. Now use it to speak to me.’ Voldemort instructed.   
‘Like this?’ Harry asked  
‘How is this any different than what I did before?’ And then   
‘oh’. Harry could feel Voldemort. Where before he had only been a presence in the back of Harry's head when they spoke, Harry could now feel the pride and satisfaction and relief coming through the bond.  
‘very good, Potter, having to strain to hear your mind was giving me a headache. Talk to me through the bond from now on, it will be easier for both of us.’  
‘So I can talk to you whenever I want now?!’ Harry was giddy with excitement.  
‘Yes, but that does not mean I will always listen or reply. I am a very busy man after all. Occlumency does not work on bonds, but I can still block you from coming across so strongly.’  
So that's why my occlumency lessons didn't help last year, Harry thought. It wasn't because Snape was sabotaging me, it was because Voldemort and I have a bond. Oh shit.   
Harry had just realized that Voldemort could probably still ‘hear’ everything he was thinking. ‘Don't kill Snape, please’ Harry begged through the bond.  
‘Why would I hurt Severus? What were you just thinking about?’ Voldemort shot back.   
‘You can't hear my mind anymore?’  
‘No, I'm not straining to read your surface thoughts, your thoughts are your own, but I can still feel your emotions. So tell me, what has you so panicked about Severus?’ The last line was delivered in a slow hiss.  
Harry thought quickly and decided on a half truth.  
‘I was just thinking about occlumency lessons with him last year.’  
‘Ah yes, he told me he was ordered to teach you occlumency. Apparently you didn't take to it too well, Potter.’  
Harry needed to change the subject, fast.  
‘Well no, and would you stop calling me that.’ He snapped. He could tell Voldemort was taken a back.   
‘Call you what, Potter?’ He asked.  
‘Yeah, that. You've called me Harry before, why did you switch back?’  
‘Very well, Harry. Go to sleep. I have it on good authority your new defense teacher has it out for you.’ Harry smiled at Voldemort’s joke. Seeing as Snape was the new defense teacher he knew he was in for a rough year in that class.  
‘Goodnight, Tom.’ Harry teased, feeling lighthearted. He felt the irritation through the bond, but it seemed resigned as well.  
‘Goodnight, I would wish you sweet dreams, but I'll make sure they are.’ And with that Harry drifted off to sleep. 

Harry woke the next morning feeling warm and content. He stretched lazily. He couldn't remember his dreams, but they had left him feeling refreshed and happy. Definitely no nightmares. Had Voldemort sent him sweet dreams, as he said? And what about all those nights at the burrow, when he had slept peacefully after being woken up by Voldemort. Had he been sending him happy dreams then, too? But then why hadn't he responded when Harry yelled to him? This was all too strange. It was almost as if Voldemort was looking out for Harry. He must be going crazy. He was hearing voices in his head and he had lost his mind. But when Harry checked the bond it was still there, and he could feel Voldemort sleeping on the other end.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Thank you everyone for the support. I posted chapter one on a whim and was terrified that no one would even read it, let alone actually enjoy it. The comments, kudos and hits are really what I needed to motivate me to put my ideas on paper, even if it did take me awhile to get to it. Thank you!

Harry waited for Ron to finish getting ready and then went down to the great hall with him and Hermione for breakfast. Harry pushed his scrambled eggs around on his plate, waiting for McGonagall to pass out they're new schedules.   
“Ugh, potions first thing this morning.” Ron moaned.  
“Snape isn't teaching it this year, maybe it won't be as bad.” Hermione pointed out. “Oh, but then we do have Snape after lunch.” Her voice fell as she realized this. “Are you about done, Harry? We should get to the dungeons, we don't want to be late to the first potions class with the new professor.” Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione’s last statement while her back was turned and Harry managed a weak smile for him before he followed his friends down to their first class of the year.

After dinner that night the three gathered in the common room to start on the homework that had been assigned that day. Ron had moaned that it wouldn't be due for another few days but Hermione shot him down by pointing out that they would have more work assigned tomorrow so they shouldn't put it off. While they bickered Harry pulled out his potions book and stared at the first page of chapter one.   
“The information you need starts on page 34. Harry.” Hermione pointed out, noticing he was still staring at the first page. “Didn't you read the chapter before class?” She turned back to Ron then. “No, that's not right, it says right there that if you add the mug wort before you stir in the crushed blue horn it will have the opposite effect. Fix that.” Ron huffed but dutifully crossed out something on his parchment and started rewriting it.   
Harry couldn't focus on the words on the page, no matter how many times he reread it nothing seemed to make sense. His attention kept drifting away and he would find himself again staring at the page after zoning out for a few moments. Hermione and Ron were still too wrapped up working on Ron’s essay to notice Harry's inattention. He finally shut his book and shoved it back in his page and trudged up the stairs to his dorm. Dropping his bag next to his bed, Harry stripped down to his boxers, not bothering to put on his pajamas, and climbed into his bed, closing the curtains. He laid in bed for what felt like close to an hour, hoping no one would come looking for him. But it seemed no one had noticed he left and he eventually drifted off to sleep. 

The next few days passed in quit the same way. Harry couldn’t focus on anything. He often found himself drifting off during class. He was always tired even though he got plenty of sleep. McGonagall had shouted at him and from the whole class when he didn’t have the assigned work to turn in. Most of the other teacher simply ignored the fact he hadn’t completed any of the homework. Flitwick had even patted him on the shoulder and told Harry he could turn the paper that he had assigned in once Harry had finished it up. 

Hermione cornered him in the common room one night before Harry could escape to his dorm.  
“What’s going on with you Harry? You didn’t turn in any of your homework today. Did you even finish it?”  
Harry shuffled his feet uncomfortably, he couldn’t seem to look her in the eye.  
“Well, no.”  
Hermione sighed. “I don’t know why not. I know the work this year is harder but even Ron is managing to keep up. What do you have left to finish?”   
Harry listed off what he could remember.  
“That’s nearly all of it!” She exclaimed. “Well at least you did the essay for history of magic, I wrote nearly five scrolls for that.”  
“Um, no. I didn’t do that either.” Harry admits. Hermione’s scrutinizing look what getting uncomfortable and all he wanted was to escape.   
“Ok” she started slowly “you can still get caught up, I’ll help you. Let’s start on that first.” Harry could tell she was uncomfortable now too.  
“Look don’t worry about it. Thanks, really Hermione. I’ll just go upstairs and work on it, ok. You can work with Ron.”   
Hermione glanced over at Ron, who was currently playing a game of chess against Lee Jordan.   
“Yeah, ok. Just promise you’ll do that paper tonight, ok?”   
“Yeah, promise.” Harry replied half-heartedly. But that was clearly all the reassurance she needed and she quickly returned to Ron’s side. 

Harry climbed the stairs to his dorm and laid down on his bed. He thoughts drifted off to Sirius, like they often did. He was filled with guilt. He could have done more. He should have done more. But instead Sirius was dead, and he was alone. 

But maybe not completely alone.  
‘Um, Voldemort?’ Harry tried through the bond. For a moment he was terrified it wouldn’t work, or the Voldemort would ignore him. But after a second he got a reply.   
‘Yes?’ Just hearing the one word in his head made Harry sigh in relief. He could feel Voldemort’s amusement at the other end of their link.  
‘So happy to hear from me I see.’ The other man said. Harry felt a blush rising in his cheeks and knew Voldemort could feel him embarrassment. Deciding to side step it entirely, Harry asked  
‘I can tell you think I’m funny, why?’   
‘Why can you feel it, or why do you amuse me?’ The dark lord asked in return.  
‘Both I guess.’   
‘I told you there was more to the bond. We can feel the others emotions, and when we are focusing on it, such as we are now, they come across much stronger.’   
‘Yeah, I could feel it last year, when you were angry. But only when you were really angry. Is it different now?’ Harry asked.  
‘Different? No. The bond is the same, you are just aware of it now, and know how to use it. If you are not focused on it you would only feel strong emotions.’  
‘And the only strong emotion you have is anger?’ Harry asked, with a bit of cheek.   
‘Some might say I have a bit of a temper.’ Voldemort replied dryly. Harry snorted.  
‘As to why I find you so funny, as you put it, well it’s not every day your sworn enemy reaches out do you in a moment of loneliness.’  
‘So you picked up on that?’ Harry said morosely.  
‘It would be hard not to. Why are you not with your friends?’ Voldemort asked.  
‘They don’t get it.’  
‘And have you tried to explain?’  
‘Explain what!’ Harry shouted in to the bond. ‘That Sirius is dead? That Cedric’s dead? That it’s my fault? Or how about how I’m supposed to kill you and add another murder to my tally! There’s nothing to explain. They already know it all, they’re just too wrapped up in each other to care!’ Harry sat on his bed, breathing heavily. He hadn’t put what had been bothering him into words before, but now that he had he was filled with anger.   
‘You don’t want to kill me?’ He heard from across the bond.   
‘I don’t want to kill anyone. There’s been too much death already.’  
‘Two deaths are hardly a lot for a war, and that is where this is heading Harry, to a full out war between myself and Dumbledore.’  
‘Then let it be between you, I don’t want any part in it!’ Harry huffed.  
‘You know Dumbledore would never allow that, he been preparing you, been preparing everyone, for a war since you were a baby.’  
‘Then I’ll stop it. I have to.’  
‘Even if it means killing me?’ Voldemort didn’t sound the least bit scared, just curious. Harry paused while he thought about. Finally, he answered. ‘No, I won’t kill, not again.’  
There was a long pause and Harry could tell Voldemort was thinking something over. Harry waited for what he was going to say.   
‘You’re not a murderer harry.’ Voldemort finally said, his voice through the link quiet and soft.  
‘I know technically I’m not. But it’s still my fault, it feels the same.’ Harry collapsed back on the bed.   
‘Take it from someone who knows, it’s not the same, even if they deaths were your fault. But Harry, you are a child thrown in a conflict that you do not understand and you cannot withstand the currents that pull at you.’ Voldemort’s replay was almost comforting.   
‘What is that supposed to mean?’  
‘Think on it for a few days. For now, go to sleep.’ Harry suddenly realized how tired he was, but he suddenly remembered and shot up in bed.  
‘I can’t, I promised Hermione I would do my history of magic essay tonight!’ Harry could feel soothing emotions coming across the bond.   
‘One more night won’t hurt, sleep now, I will help you with it tomorrow.’ Voldemort told him. Harry laid back down and snuggled into the covers until he was comfortable.   
‘Are you good at history?’ Harry asked   
‘I am good at many things.’ Came the smug reply.   
‘Did you get top marks when you were at Hogwarts?’  
‘Always.’ Harry snorted.  
‘Of course you did.’ And with that he drifted off to sleep. 

Harry woke up late the next day. Maybe if he skipped breakfast he could make it to class on time. If he could just find his other sock.. oh, there it is! As he ran out of the dorm he heard a chuckle inside his head.   
‘I don’t have time for this.’ Harry hissed as he raced back into his dorm to grab his bag that he left at the foot of his bed.  
‘Aren’t you pleasant in the morning.’ Voldemort teased.  
‘I’m really late, I don’t have time to be pleasant.’ Harry shot back as he threw himself through the portrait hole.   
‘Late for what, another class you are not prepared for?’   
‘I still have to go.’  
‘Why?’ Harry stopped dead at Voldemort’s reply, confused.   
‘What do you mean why? I have to go to class.’   
‘And you can’t think of a better way to spend your time today?’ Voldemort asked. Harry didn’t answer, he had started moving again towards the defense classroom. Snape was already going to kill him, he hadn’t finished the paper he had assigned last class.   
‘Skip today.’ Voldemort finally said. Harry stopped short.  
‘What?’  
‘I said skip class today. Go to the library, I will help you with whatever you need to get done’  
‘You’re really going to help me with my homework?’ Harry asked in disbelief  
‘I told you I would, I don’t break my word easily, Potter. Get some food from the kitchens then go to the library.’ Harry thought for a beat. Was this really a good idea? But what use was it arguing with The Dark Lord himself?

‘Did you ever skip class, when you were in school?’ Harry asked a few minutes later as he ate the last of his toast. His pace was much slower now that he didn’t have to rush and he was loaded down with food from the house elfs.   
‘Rarely, only when I had more important things to do.’  
‘What, like Dark Lord things?’ Harry shot back.  
‘Yes.’ Harry didn’t know what he expected for an answer, he hadn’t even thought about the question, it had just kind of came out, but Voldemort’s frank confession made him uneasy. As Voldemort sensed Harry’s discomfort through the bond he added  
‘But I never let myself fall so far behind that I had to cut classes to catch up.’ Was Voldemort scolding him? That made him even more uncomfortable.  
‘Don’t you have things to do today? You don’t have to help me all day you know.’ Harry answered defensively.   
‘Lucky for you, Potter, I have nothing planned. I can work with you all day.’ Harry groan, any exhilaration from cutting class gone. Voldemort was going to make him work all day. He would be worse than Hermione. 

Voldemort did have him work well after classes ended for the day, but he was surprisingly patient. He walked Harry through everything he needed to know for his homework, starting with his potions essay.   
‘We don’t need to give Severus any more reason to hate you.’ Voldemort had joked. He had actually made a joke, to Harry! Harry couldn’t believe it. But by the end of the night everything was done, mostly thanks to Voldemort telling Harry exactly what to write for his history of magic paper.   
‘We’ll never finish if I have you research this. Just write as I dictate it to you. Bins will never tell the difference. I honestly don’t even think he reads these.’ Every other subject though Voldemort would tell Harry what books he needed and where exactly in library they were and answered all of Harry’s questions.

Well after dinner time Hermione came into the library looking haggard.   
“Oh Harry, there you are!” Hermione cried when she saw him. “Ron and I have been looking everywhere for you! I honestly didn’t think to look for you in here till just now. Where have you been all day?” She looked annoyed now.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I just thought that I should get caught up today, instead of going to class.”   
“You cut class, to do homework!” Ron had come in behind Hermione and looked thougherly confused.  
“Yeah, but I finished everything. So, I’m fine now.”  
“You finished everything in one day?” Hermione looked skeptical.   
“Yeah, so let’s go back to the common room. I want to see everyone. Ginny, and Neville, and well, everyone.” And Harry did want to see them. He realized he had barely spoken to anyone besides Ron or Hermione since the start of term, and even them sparingly. But now he felt better than he had in weeks.   
“Come on, let’s go.” He said, rushing past Ron and Hermione to head to the common room. He didn’t see the concerned look they shot each other as he left the library. 

Harry’s good mood didn’t last long though. The next morning McGonagall cornered him as he was leaving breakfast in the great hall.   
“Harry, I’m sorry but I have to remove you as captain of the quidditch team.” Harry had hardly even thought about the fact he had been named quittage captain, a notice informing him had been included in his Hogwarts package over the summer. Harry recalled Ron being excited for him and talking for days about different tactics and who should be on the team.   
“With your current academic performance I simply can’t allow you to continue as quidditch captain.” McGonagall continued. “And if your substandard performance continues I will be forced to remove you from the team entirely. Ronald will have to act as captain until you shape up Potter. I don’t know what has gotten into you lately, if you want to qualify to even apply to be an auror you need to focus on your studies.”  
“Right.” Harry muttered before hurrying off to catch up with Ron and Hermione. He found them already in the green house for herbology. Harry sneaked in just before Professor Sprout began giving instructions for that day’s class.   
“What did McGonagall what to talk to you about mate?” Ron asked as the three of them moved off to the back of the greenhouse to start they’re work.   
“She removed me as captain of the quidditch team.” Harry replied. He still felt numb from the whole situation.   
“What!” Ron exploded, dropping the potted plant he was carrying. “She can’t do that, who’s going to be captain then?” Harry stared down at the plant in his hands. He appreciated Ron’s anger on his behalf, but it made him uncomfortable. He kicked at the dirt and didn’t meet Ron’s eyes.   
“You are.” He muttered.   
“Oh.” Ron deflated instantly, clearly unsure what to say. Hermione put her hand on Ron’s arm and spoke.   
“But it’s not permanent, is it Harry?”  
“No, I guess not.” Harry scratch at the back of his head, trying to think what exactly McGonagall had said.   
“No, she said it’s just until I get my grades up, I think.”  
“Oh good, well you’re all caught up now, right? You’ll be back as captain in no time. Oh, sorry Ron.” She added almost as an afterthought.   
“Yeah” Ron said, back to his normal enthusiastic self. “And you’re still on the team, right? So, you can still help with everything. I’ll need help with tryouts, do you think we can do it this weekend? Or should we do it next weekend, give everyone more time to prepare? We want them to bring their best to the field.” Harry didn’t answer him. After a few seconds Hermione cut in.  
“I know it’ll be tough Harry” she started soothingly “but your still on the team, you’ll still be able to play”  
Harry grit his teeth. “I’m quitting.” He spat out. He didn’t know when he got so angry but he was practically shaking from it now. His friends and entirely missed the point. Why were they so focused on quidditch?   
“Oh Harry!” Hermione cried and Ron yell “you can’t quit!” But after a long look at him Hermione pulled Ron away to leave Harry in peace. They spent the rest of the class whispering to each other, they’re heads bent close together. 

The rest of the day passed awkwardly. Harry hardly spoke to Ron and Hermione and they didn’t push him. Instead they seemed to keep him at arm’s length, continuing to talk amongst themselves. Harry couldn’t be bothered to even wonder what they were talking about. That night he rushed through all the work that had been assigned that day. Thankfully it wasn’t much and he was able to finish it before his bleak mood overtook him. And without Hermione’s help. He finally collapsed into bed. That night he had nightmares for the first time in months. 

The next day was slightly better. Harry was exhausting from the poor sleep the night before, but Ron and Hermione did make a point to include him in their conversations and Harry passed in the rest of the last assignments he had finished the other day. Flitwick chirped on happy about it. “No problem at all boy, no problem. Knew you’d get it in to me.” He said when Harry had apologized for it being late. McGonagall had just given him a long hard look before sending him back to his seat. It was finally Friday, so Ron had talked Hermione out of homework for the night, promising they would do it tomorrow afternoon. But the rowdy common room was too much for Harry and he quickly begged off to the dorms. He also felt the now familiar prickling sensation in the back of his mind that meant Voldemort was reaching through the bond, and Harry really wanted to be alone if Voldemort started talking to him. 

Harry froze as he opened the door to his dorm. Someone was sitting on his bed. But it wasn’t quite someone. His edges were almost blurred, and if Harry focused his eyes he could almost see the curtains of his four-poster drawn shut on the other side of the form.   
“Tom?” Harry breathed.


End file.
